


Between The Click Of The Light And The Start Of The Dream

by EverlivingGhosts



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Love, M/M, Romance, cute stuff, spoilers for Cassettes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-03
Updated: 2013-11-03
Packaged: 2017-12-31 10:08:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1030433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EverlivingGhosts/pseuds/EverlivingGhosts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on a headcanon I made on my tumblr after I listened to the episode Cassettes:</p>
<p>After hearing that Cecil doesn’t use mirrors, next time they lie in bed together Carlos carefully describes each of Cecil’s features to him, kissing each one as he does so.</p>
<p>Please, enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between The Click Of The Light And The Start Of The Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy this little fic, I was umming and aahing about posting it because I was worried that I'd done a terrible job on it, being a bit clueless about how to write kissing and stuff. But I tried my best, and who can complain about there being more Cecilos in the world, eh? I dunno if it really counts as 'M' but I put it anyway because why the hell not.
> 
> Based on a headcanon on my wtnv tumblr: http://sexybaldwin.tumblr.com/
> 
> Apologies if there are any mistakes and if the Spanish is a little off please let me know! It's a pain relying on online translators.
> 
> Thank you for reading and any comments, they are like a life source to me.

Carlos lay wordlessly on the bed, the covers feeling soft and luxurious against his aching body, fatigued after a long day working at the lab. He really was trying to relax, to let his aching legs have the rest that they deserved, but his mind was wholly focused on the man he could hear moving in the adjacent bathroom, at the man who had been so uncharacteristically quiet for most of the evening.

He did not need to ask why he was being so subdued; the whole _town_ had heard the radio show that day, had been a collective witness to Cecil's turmoil and worry as he dredged up his mysterious past on air. He had wanted so badly to ask Cecil about those peculiar cassettes when they met up outside of the radio station, but one look at that haunted face caused him to swallow, the words faltering in his throat as he found himself unable to make the Cecil with such an expression of sadness talk more about his traumatic day.

 

And so, Carlos had plastered a fake smile on his face and did not mention anything about those strange tapes, and Cecil also seemed to be pretending they did not exist, as he spoke not a word about it. In fact, for once it was Carlos doing all of the talking, Cecil giving non-committal little grunts or saying only a few words when he absolutely had to, nothing like his usually vibrant self which emerged with particular aplomb when his show had finished. Each step they took back to Carlos's house filled him with more and more worry, and yet he still could not muster enough courage to ask Cecil about those damned cassettes.

 

The worrying silence was made easier by the fact that Carlos had promised to cook dinner that night, so for a little bit he was distracted by chopping vegetables and keeping an eye on the pot on the stove, while Cecil sat with a morose expression at the table, absentmindedly stroking the cuts on his fingers which had presumably been caused when he had crushed the tapes with his bare hands. 

 

When they were eating the food, Carlos noticed that he was struggling with the cutlery, awkwardly twisting the metal implements so that they didn't press on his wounds and cause him further pain. Without speaking, he moved from the table and towards a cupboard, rustling around in it for a few moments while Cecil watched him curiously. After a little more searching, Carlos walked back to the table, clutching an armful of small bandages which had lain in a first aid kit stuffed in the back of the cupboard. Cecil tried to splutter that he was fine, that Carlos should just go back to his dinner, but the scientist brought out a small bandage, expertly wrapping it around Cecil's hand with a tender touch, securing it in place with his dextrous fingers. When it was done, he looked straight into Cecil's eyes and opened his mouth to ask, to finally broach the subject, but Cecil's expression was full of pain as he seemed to sense the question on Carlos's lips. He spoke desperately, 

 

"Please." 

 

That was all he said, but it was enough. The words died in Carlos's throat; he could not bring himself to defy such a sad and lost voice. Although his mind still ached with curiosity, he sat back in his place and they ate the remainder of the meal in silence, the soft clink of cutlery the only sound in the room. 

 

But now, Carlos couldn't _bear_ to stay silent, couldn't bear to let Cecil go back to the station, the source of his current troubles, tomorrow without talking through the events of today and making sure he wasn't so upset, so wretched. He had to do something, but what? He cast his eyes around the room, desperately hoping for inspiration, and they fell upon the mirror in the corner which he had grown used to ignoring, the mirror that he now realised with a jolt was covered in a soft black cloth. He had never spared it a thought, but now his brain whirred, ideas and possibilities clamouring for position. 

 

There was a soft click as the door handle turned, and Cecil wandered into the room, his usual bounce replaced by a sort of sad shuffle. He looked towards the bed, then his face shifted into a small frown as he registered that it had been vacated.

 

"Carlos?" He was sure he had been in here waiting for him. He looked to the left, utterly perplexed. "Where are-"

 

He gave a yelp as he was grabbed from behind and shoved forwards, landing with a soft _thump_ onto the bed. Face down on the covers, he spluttered in a muffled voice, "C-carlos?"

 

He was unceremoniously spun around, two strong legs effectively pinning him to the bed and preventing escape. He tried to sit upwards, but Carlos grabbed his arms, leaning his face downwards so they were almost nose to nose, their bodies pressed together comfortably as he quirked an eyebrow at the trapped man below him.

 

"Hmm, are you speaking to me now?"

"W-wha-"

"You've been avoiding me all evening."

 

The face below him flushed crimson, but Cecil did not deny it. He remained silent, unmoving beneath the looming body, and Carlos sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly.

 

"You _still_ don't want to talk about it?"

 

"I can't stop thinking about it." His voice was wobbling, and Carlos could feel the body also shaking slightly beneath him, making the bed shudder a little with the vibrations. His words were so soft and sad, "I don't _want_ to think about it anymore."

 

He tried looking away, but Carlos, leaning in smoothly, pressed his forehead against the broadcaster's, his soft skin grazing the odd tattoo that lay there watchfully. Cecil stilled, surprised at the forehead pressed agains his own; it felt strangely pleasant to have that small bit of contact, even as he wanted to shrink away and hide from that inquisitive gaze. Carlos's breath was hot against Cecil's face as he spoke in a soothing voice,

 

"Hey, I won't make you do _anything_ you don't want to do. You know that."  Cecil's eyes were closed; Carlos could feel the light lashes brushing against his own face, "But I can't just pretend it didn't happen, Cecil."

 

"Why can't we?" 

 

The words were a whisper, and yet they seemed to cut through Carlos's heart, a knifelike stab that made him want to just gather the man below him to his chest and never, ever let go, to protect him from all of his troubles. He stroked the wrist of Cecil's left hand, attempting to imbue his voice with as much care as he could. 

 

"Because I can't _stand_ to see you hurting."

 

They remained there for a few moments, Cecil unable to speak due to Carlos's sweet, honest words. The warm, reassuring weight of the scientist felt heavenly on his body, and he could feel the steady beating of his heart through his shirt; he wished he could enjoy all of this, and yet the black fog of today's events weighed heavily on his mind, obscuring all other things with its malevolence. He could not forget about the tapes, could not push away the thought that he was not who he thought he was, that he was an imposter. Feeling his silence, Carlos reluctantly lifted his forehead away, and Cecil felt bereaved of the touch. The scientist drew back slightly, raking his gaze across Cecil's face as if considering something.

 

"Do you really not use mirrors any more?"

 

The question was so unexpected that Cecil didn't even think twice about answering,

 

"No, not for years."

Carlos frowned, "So…so do you even know what you look like?"

Cecil could not see where this conversation was headed, so he spoke cautiously.

"Well, I do have a picture on my desk. But…no, I suppose not. I don't really think about it, if I'm perfectly honest."

 

He wriggled slightly underneath Carlos; distracted by his thoughts, he had shifted his balance on the bed and was pressing much harder onto Cecil's body. He did not mind in the slightest, but he could feel his face becoming redder and redder as tentative thoughts bloomed in his mind, as the temptation to pull Carlos down onto him, to bury his face in that soft reassuring body was gradually beginning to fight his feelings of worry and despair. But the scientist didn't seem to notice, staring off into the corner of the room, at the mirror although Cecil did not know this. His voice sounded like it was coming from far, far away. 

 

"Hmm. Would you like me to describe it for you?"

 

As the words sunk in, Cecil frowned; he did not understand what he was talking about. 

 

"Describe what?"

"Your face. That is to say, what you look like."

 

The thought of Carlos, his sweet, beautiful Carlos describing his unworthy face with his honeyed words was indeed a tantalising thought. Cecil could not tell him why he did not use mirrors, he simply could not, and although the events of today had brought up many upsetting questions about himself and his appearance, he could feel temptation and curiosity drawing him in. He considered the offer, feeling Carlos's tangible anticipation.

 

"Yes." He saw Carlos's eyes brighten at the affirmation, and forged on recklessly, "But only…" He squeezed his eyes tighter, hardly believing his nerve, "Only if you kiss me."

 

He did not open his eyes, feeling the movement as Carlos paused over him, wondering if he had been too bold. But, he felt a hand on his face, gently guiding his eyes open. When he did so, he saw Carlos leaning over him once more, his face full of more gentleness than Cecil had ever seen on it before, a look of pure concentration that he usually reserved for his more important experiments. Carlos's finger stroked a delicate touch on the skin next to his eyes, the pure ticklishness of which made Cecil gasp.

 

"I see…two beautiful, purple, impossible eyes." 

 

He kissed the spot he had been stroking, and when Cecil closed them, Carlos's lips grazed the closed lids. He drew back, and Cecil's eyes flew open; he was breathless with anticipation for more kisses and soft caresses. Seeing his eagerness, Carlos smiled, his lips pleasantly flushed. He leaned down again, his movements pressing Cecil deeper onto to the bed as he searched his face intently. 

 

"I see…a lovely, long nose."

 

He moved to press a kiss to the tip of it, and as his body slid over him again Cecil couldn't stand the closeness of that tantalising mouth to his own lips it any longer; he tried to grab him, but, spying his movements, Carlos was too quick. He held onto Cecil's arms again, pushing them over his head, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he held onto the wriggling arms.

 

"I don't think so, mi Cariño." He laughed again at the frustrated groan from beneath him, "This is all about you, and I want to go nice and _slow_."

 

He drew out the last word, pressing harder onto Cecil with his legs to emphasise his point, who wriggled again. His voice, when it spoke, had a hint of grumpiness.

 

"Well, Cecil wants to go nice and _fast_."

 

Carlos's laughter rang around the room, a tinkling little tune, and he pressed a quick kiss to Cecil's nose, smiling as he tried to squirm away from the touch.

 

"I bet he does. But I want to do this." Cautiously, he lessened his grip on Cecil's arms a minuscule amount. "If I let go, will you leave your hands by your sides? Please, it'll be worth it."

 

With clear reluctance, Cecil nodded, and Carlos fully slackened his grip. The arms did not move, but Carlos waited for a moment to check that they would not grab him again when he took his attention away. The broadcaster quirked an eyebrow at his looming partner, his voice lower and silkier than ever.

 

"Well? Weren't you in the middle of something?" 

 

Carlos started, internally chastising himself that he had been so easily distracted by the slyly grinning face beneath him. Shaking himself, he peered down at Cecil, wondering where to go next.

 

"Let's think…I see…a very handsome chin." 

 

He leant down to kiss it, feeling it shake as Cecil spoke teasingly, with a voice full of mock surprise,

 

"Oh, I'm _handsome_ now, am I?"

 

"Yes, extraordinarily so." He stroked the said chin with his finger, his voice deep and rich as it tumbled out of his mouth, "Ugh...Me vuelves _loco_."

 

Feeling the deep voice wash over him, Cecil arched his back, a shiver runing down his spine at the unfamiliar words which sounded like they belonged so perfectly in Carlos's voice, 

 

"God, I love it when you speak Spanish. What did you say?"

"I said, you drive me _crazy_."

 

Lying down on those soft covers and watching his partner say those words which such an intense look, with such clear honesty in his voice, Cecil did not speak, could not speak. He was constantly reminding himself of the impossible chance that this gorgeous, loving man had said yes, had somehow agreed to be with _him_ , of all people. Although Cecil was certain that Carlos was pretty clueless about this fact, the scientist could have had anyone in Night Vale, if the reverent gossip when he arrived was anything to go by. But Carlos had picked him, was trying his very best to make him feel comfortable even though Cecil could see how frightened he was of offending him, of scaring him off. If only Carlos knew how thankful Cecil was that he was trying. 

 

He ached to take hold of Carlos, to press their beating hearts and to really _feel_ his warmth, but he forced himself kept them still, just as he had promised. Carlos saw his face freeze and considered asking him what was the matter, but eventually decided that pressing on would be the best option. He inspected the face below him carefully.

 

"Now, I can see…beautiful cheekbones, ah, so _beautiful._ "

 

He dotted kisses down the cheekbones, feeling the other man gripping the covers and trying his best not to laugh at the light, tickling lips. In truth, it was taking all of Carlos's own self control not just to kiss Cecil senseless, but he wanted to do this, hell, he _needed_ to do this. He drew back, searching that face, his eyes drawn to the tattoo on his forehead which occasionally had the tendency to shift into a third eye. He gulped, feeling it's inscrutable glare upon him, seeing that Cecil had registered where his gaze was leading to, nervously waiting for him to speak.

 

"Hmm, you have a… _lovely_ …third eye….tattoo…thing."

 

Hearing his uncertain voice, Cecil's smile faltered slightly. He tried to bring it back to its previous brightness, but it just looked very fake on his face. 

 

"You don't have to pretend, I don't mind."

 

Feeling an absurd surge of fierceness, Carlos swooped upon his forehead and kissed the eye, now retreated into tattoo form at the oncoming attack. His voice was very firm as he drew back, as if he was defending Cecil against a complaining crowd.

 

"A lovely tattoo. I _love_ it." 

 

Cecil gave a small huff of disbelief, so to prove his utter seriousness Carlos descended upon him again and pressed another fervent kiss to that mysterious tattoo, allowing his lips to linger softly upon Cecil's skin for a longer time. The broadcaster smiled as Carlos remained there for a few seconds, and he cheekily administered a kiss to the chin that was hovering so tantalisingly over his face. The lips on his forehead curved into a grin, and Carlos broke away.

 

"Hey, I thought the kisses were supposed to be just for you today?"

"Carlos, I am only human. It's very cruel of you to hover so delightfully over my poor self. I simply _cannot_ resist." 

 

Carlos shook his head fondly at the man who didn't have the decency to look even remotely chastised. Feeling it was time to press on, he sat up straighter, inspecting Cecil's face once more. Underneath him, following his movements with an eager gaze, the radio host became excited; where else was there to go on his face but his lips? He had enjoyed this little game, so very, very much, but he burned to feel Carlos on his lips, to feel that beautiful mouth against his own, to love and be loved. He stared up at that looming figure, the glow of the moonlight from the window outside highlighting bright parts of his perfect hair, throwing breathtaking shadows on the beautiful planes of his face, both gentle listener and teasing lover and all _his._

 

The face loomed closer and closer: Cecil licked his lips in anticipation, his hands twitching on the bed to take a hold of Carlos when he came close enough. The lips were almost in line with his, Cecil prepared to stretch upwards and…Carlos darted to the right, his mouth almost against Cecil's ear, his breath ghosting across his cheek. There was a whisper, low, amused.

 

"Not _quite_ yet."

 

Cecil's replied huff of annoyance merged into a gasp as Carlos did not pull back this time but continued to dot kisses beside his ear, working his way smoothly down his neck, those lips sinfully soft against his skin. Cecil could make out the odd word between kisses, such as 'neck', 'ears' and 'delicious', but he was too distracted to listen fully. He grasped his hands onto Carlos's hair to hold him in place, he did not want him to stop after all, and Carlos obliged, peppering his neck with those teasing little kisses.

His touch seemed to encourage Cecil's tattoos to emerge, to seek out the other man's unexpected touch, and he kissed each tentacle, each swirling symbol which swam across the skin, causing them to swirl excitedly. As he moved his mouth to Cecil's collarbone,  exposed through his now open shirt, the broadcaster threw his head back onto the pillow, his voice whimpering the word that filled his mind, filled his entire being with such a fierce and burning love, a word that was both a prayer and a desperate plea, 

" _Carlos_ …"

And, finally, _finally_ , Cecil felt those delicious lips enclose his own, the swiftness of the action causing him to remain in a shocked stillness on the bed. Taking advantage of his surprise, Carlos drew back an infinitesimal amount, his eyes almost closed as he peered down at that stilled face,

 

" And, I see lovely, lovely lips that-"

 

Ignoring his words entirely, Cecil reached up and _grabbed_ Carlos, roughly pulling him upon him again, and pressing their lips together, completely cutting off his words. Carlos did not pull back this time, lessening the pressure of his legs pinning Cecil in place on the bed as he was pulled downwards onto that eager body. Feeling the lessened resistance, Cecil wrapped his long legs around Carlos and they rolled slightly to the left, still with lips pressed hungrily together, both delighting in each other's touch. All distressing memories of the day had dissipated, everything was lost to the feel of Carlos's lips, to those strong hands around his waist, to those deep eyes which were gazing at him as if he, plain old Cecil, was a shining prize that he couldn't believe that he had won. 

 

Eventually, both panting, they took a break for air; arms and legs entwined, they lay on the bed. Carlos's heart soared to finally see a genuine smile of Cecil's face, its beauty enhanced by the soft moonlight falling from the window. He brought one hand from around Cecil's waist and brushed it against a sharp cheekbone, Cecil shutting his eyes momentarily at that delicate touch. His voice was husky, reverent, the words washing over Cecil deliciously as he stroked him,

 

"Cecil Gershwin Palmer."

The name was almost lyrical in that voice, and Cecil decided there and then that his name would never, ever seem as perfect as it did when spoken by Carlos. The scientist felt Cecil leaning in hungrily to his touch, wondering how on earth he was every going to express all of the feelings and emotions clamouring for position in his mind. He had to try, and he leaned closer to that face which was drinking in his words with such eagerness. 

 

"I see only _my_ Cecil in front of me, and no silly cassette is going to change that."

 

Cecil's smile faltered slightly at the mention of the tapes and he attempted to look away, but Carlos cupped his cheek, holding his face so that it was gazing into his own eyes. 

 

"I don't care who you might have been, who you could have been." His face softened, and he brushed his thumb across that still cheek, "I fell in love with _you_ , Cecil. Nobody else." 

 

Cecil closed his eyes, the sweet words washing over him and making him sigh with utter contentedness. Carlos accepted him for who he was, he was not frightened of him, did not think that he was this wretched abomination so different from the innocent and excited voice which had emerged from the cassette tapes. Slowly, he realised that the tapes did not change who he was, perhaps they did offer up some disturbing questions about himself, but what really mattered was that he was here, that he was loved by this generous man. 

 

He was awash with happiness, almost floating with the feeling, and Carlos pressed a swift kiss to his lips, wrapping his arms around Cecil once more as he drew their bodies together, slotting together like a jigsaw piece. Cecil looked down at him, at his loving, beautiful partner, and he was so full of emotion that the words almost defeated him.

 

"Thank you." It was only a whisper, but Carlos heard well enough, " _Thank you_."

 

Carlos understood all that Cecil did not say, could not say; it was written on his open, soft expression, in the dazed smile grazing his lips, at the arms which wrapped around him. He understood, and he was glad. He squeezed his arms around Cecil's body lightly, staring up through thick lashes, his voice imbued once more with that teasing tone.

 

"Should we carry on then? There's more of you that I would like to…describe." 

 

Unable to speak, Cecil nodded, gasping once more as Carlos descended upon him again. As those lips reclaimed his own once more, the day was forgotten, all worry and confusion was obliterated by the force of that great love which washed over him with such delicacy. Cecil smiled through the kiss, his arms and mind full of Carlos, and for the first time ever in his life, he was thankful for the mirrors in Night Vale. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the amazing Arcade Fire for the title for this fic from their great song 'No Cars Go.' Such lovely lyrics.


End file.
